


Fire

by Emily_F6



Series: Febuwhump 2020 [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Hurt Peter Parker, Protective Peter Parker, febuwhump 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23158573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emily_F6/pseuds/Emily_F6
Summary: An explosion in Peter's school leaves him struggling to save his classmates.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Febuwhump 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664710
Comments: 2
Kudos: 315





	Fire

Peter's feet dangled from his stool, and he felt his eyes glaze over as he stared into space. In front of him were an array of beakers and test tubes, and the tiny flame over the bunsen burner flickered. His worksheet sat on the table between him and Ned. They'd finished ages ago, and he was just waiting for the other in the class to catch up so that they could get started on the actual experiment. Since he'd started going to Mr. Stark's almost weekly, he no longer needed to make web fluid at school, so he tried to actually pay attention in class.

Today, it wasn't really working for him.

He and May had fought that morning. It hadn't been their worst fight. Not by a long shot. Just a disagreement about his curfew...and the fact that he couldn't seem to keep it. And so he was grounded. For a week. He'd tried explaining that Spiderman couldn't be grounded. That people needed him. That what he did was important. May had been less than impressed and had pointed to the front door, ordering him to school and telling him that he was to come home straight after.

Peter was still debating that. It would be worse to go out on patrol tonight...she would tell Mr. Stark and there was really no reason to bring him into this. But on the other hand, if he didn't go out and patrol, people might die. And then that would be on him. So what was more important, obeying his aunt or saving people? It was something that had been eating at him all morning, and by the third hour of school, which so far had been full of physics problems and chemistry, his brain felt fried. It didn't help that he hadn't gone to bed until 3am...thus the curfew argument.

Their teacher said something about adding the chemicals, and really, that's when Peter's spider sense should have gone off. It had been an honest mistake on the teacher's part. Somehow the chemicals had been mislabeled. The teacher had ordered the right thing...he'd done everything right. There were ten stations, with two kids at each, all ready to pour the wrong chemical into the beaker, and Peter's spider sense should have warned him that something was wrong. Maybe it didn't work as well when he was exhausted. Or maybe he was too distracted by his fight with May although, later when he'd think on it, that was even less likely. He was distracted on patrols all the time.

The explosions were deafening. That's all Peter knew. One second, the classroom had been full of kids pouring beakers of fluid into the container as per their teacher's instruction, the next, there was only fire.

His ears were ringing. Peter blinked at the ceiling, mouth open as his body gasped for air that his brain had forgotten he needed. There was fire...the table was on fire. And he was on the floor. That was all he was able to take in as his chest heaved. Smoke...the whole room was smoke and darkness and there was ringing in his ears...and an alarm? There was an alarm. How long had he been out? His head was pounding and his vision went in and out, distracting him for a minute. Reaching up, he grabbed the safety goggles over his eyes, unsure if those were the reason his eyes were blurry, but immediately regretted it when smoke filled his eyes and made them water even more. 

Peter's watch gave a short buzz on his wrist, but he couldn't figure out why. Instead, he tried to sit up, only to groan at the feeling of movement. Suddenly there was a strange turning in his stomach, and Peter instinctively rolled over despite the pain, heaving until his breakfast came up in a disgusting mass that splattered on the floor beside him. He tried to lower himself back onto the floor, but his movements were uncoordinated and he ended up crashing onto his back, head banging into the tile again and making him see stars.

Fire. There was fire.

Ned.

Peter couldn't believe it had taken so long for him to remember his friend as he turned his head frantically to the other side and tried to ignore the second wave of nausea. It didn't matter. He had to find Ned! Forgetting about the safety goggles, he tried to search the room for his friend. "Ned?" He called, but his voice came out as more of a croak that he could barely over the ringing and the blare of an alarm. But he had to get Ned. And his classmates! Were they all still in the room? It was full of smoke and fire that licked at the ceiling and the walls, but he couldn't worry about that yet. He had to get Ned first! 

Peter grabbed the floor with a hand that he struggled to make stick, then tried to drag himself forward only to turn his head and vomit again, stars appearing in his vision once more. "Ned?" He called, patting the ground. He couldn't be far. He'd been right beside Peter! "Ned?"

His hand finally met something soft, and he pulled himself closer, moving his hand around until he realized he was touching his friend's arm, then followed it up to pat his cheek. The skin there felt strange and hot, and Peter pulled his hand away, trying to look through watery eyes and a room full of smoke to no avail. "Ned!" He tried again, but his voice cut off in a series of coughs so painful that they left him flat on the floor, tears pooling in his eyes and he clutched his chest.

There were windows to their right. He knew that. They had been sitting right beside the windows! So, forcing his body to cooperate, he slipped an arm under his friend and dragged both of their bodies over to the place where he knew the windows had been. From the ceiling, he realized, water was falling, and he wondered why. Was it raining? It hadn't been raining. His head gave a terrible throb, and Peter had to close his eyes, resting his forehead on Ned's shoulder. His friend hadn't moved. Hadn't even flinched. But Peter had to get him out! And then he had to get the others!

Doing his best to hold his breath and try not to breathe in the smoke, he drug the two of them to the window, then grabbed the wall, pulling his limp, useless body upright. He thought he heard a fire truck...or maybe that was just that alarm that might have been inside or outside of his head. Peter yanked himself up, getting his legs underneath him, then brought back a fist and punched the window. As soon as he did, the glass shattered, some of it embedding itself into his hand, but he didn't care. He had to get the glass out of the way so he could get Ned out.

There were a whole row of windows, one stacked on top of the other all the way across the wall, and he managed to break enough and get enough of the glass out of the way that there would be enough room for both him and Ned. All around him, smoke rushed out of the new opening and fire still smoldered on the tables. He couldn't see anyone else through the smoke...his eyes watered and his lungs ached, but Peter tried to focus on Ned.

Bending over, he started to grab his friend, but then he was coughing so hard that he had to grab the wall, and when he looked down at the hand he'd used to cover his mouth, he blanched. His palm was covered in blood. Was that from the glass? Or...or from his mouth? He shook that thought off, trying again to grab his friend. His whole head throbbed, vision threatening to black out, but he this time he managed to get his hands under his friend's shoulder, pulling him up and then, using every ounce of strength, he picked Ned up and stumbled forward the step it took to get to the window. He'd never been so thankful to have a class on the first floor.

It wasn't gentle, but throwing his friend out the window was his only real option, and he peered down to watch his friend roll over on the ground, arms limp, head resting on the grass. Was he breathing? Peter couldn't tell. He needed to crawl out the window...needed to check on his friend. But...but his knees were buckling and he hit the floor before he could do any more climbing, head knocking against the wall once more.

His watch buzzed again, but he couldn't even lift his arm to look at it.

And then strong arms were grabbing him by the armpits and pulling him up, a hand cradling his head and then easing him to the ground beside Ned. Peter coughed again, not sure how he'd even gotten outside, and felt liquid run down his chin and nearly choke him. "Easy...easy, son." Someone urged, turning him to his side so that the liquid could drain out of his mouth. When he looked down at the grass, it was stained with blood. "Peter?" The blurry figure kneeling over him asked, and he opened his mouth to answer only for more blood to come out in a burst of coughing that made his lungs ache and his head give a stab of pain so agonizing that the world finally went black.

The next thing he knew, something was pressed against his face, the soft hiss of air hitting his face. He was gasping for it, mouth open, and when he opened his eyes, he could see blood flecks on the inside of the mask...it was an oxygen mask. He shuddered, letting his head fall back down against something soft, eyes falling shut once more.

"I don't know...he's unconscious...Tony, I..." Peter thought he heard something else...something far away and tinny, but he could barely see. Everything was blurry and his eyes burned and his chest hurt, but then someone was talking to him.

"Peter? Son, can you hear me?"

That voice was familiar. He opened his eyes and blinked at the blurry man kneeling over him Steve. It was Steve!

Peter opened his mouth to answer, but all he could do was gasp for air, and Steve Rogers put a hand on his chest, shaking his head. "Don't try to talk."

He nodded, letting his eyes close, but Steve tapped his cheek.

"Don't sleep, Peter. You've got a hell of a concussion, and I need to get you to the medbay."

Peter looked around for the first time, quickly realizing they were in the back of an ambulance. "Ned?" He croaked, ignoring the burning in his throat.

Steve gave him a look but relented. "Your classmates are all fine. There was an explosion in your chemistry class and the gas it produced was poisonous. If you hadn't gotten those windows open, your classmates might have died before anyone got to them." He rested a hand on Peter's shoulder. "There were some cuts and bruises, and plenty of concussions, but everyone should be okay."

Peter sighed in relief and Steve gave him a soft smile, patting him on the chest. "We're on our way to the medbay. You've got a nasty concussion and you're going to need to stay on oxygen for a while. Plus Tony is freaking out so…"

"How'd he know?" Peter rasped, and Steve tapped on the mask with a gently stern look.

"Stop talking, Pete." Peter kept staring until the man relented. "Your watch. It registered the change in your vitals and alerted Tony who sent the nearest Avenger. Which was me."

Peter opened his mouth to ask a follow-up, but Steve shook his head, reaching out and placing a gentle hand on Peter's hair, his thumb rubbing gently over his temple where most of the headache seemed to be coming from.

"No more questions. Just rest. You need to keep taking in that oxygen." The hand on Peter's head ruffled his hair, and Steve smiled a little. "Try to stay awake, okay? The ambulance is taking us to the medbay. I talked to the driver. He's not going to tell anyone who you are." Peter gave a weak nod, eyelids already starting to droop, but Steve shook his shoulder a little desperately. "Stay awake, Peter. Hey, I ever tell you about that guy that beat me up three blocks from your apartment?"

"Which time?" Peter whispered, and Steve snorted, slapping a hand against his shoulder.

"Smartass."


End file.
